Sherlock or Sudoku?
by FindingRainbows
Summary: '"Nothing, nothing," Greg said, calming his chuckles, "Who'd have thought that you'd be just what I needed?"' Sherlock unintentionally does some good. Just a little something again...


Disclaimer: Yeah, they're not mine...

_**A/N I know, I know, I have stories to finish but I can't unfortunately do that until my laptop is up and running again and I've been ill lately so be gentle with me...**_

_**As usual folks, this is just a random bit of something and I hope you enjoy... **_

Greg Lestrade was beyond fed-up and frustrated. He slammed his newspaper down with a little bit more force then necessary, lent back against the mass of pillows and sighed. This year was already not going to plan and it wasn't even half-way through January.

The incident happened a week ago; Greg had been involved in a drugs bust. It had been planned down to very last detail but unfortunately no-one predicted the betrayal of one of their officers at the last second and the chaos that followed. It was during said chaos that Greg had been stabbed.

It was serious enough that he had needed an operation but Greg was now on the road to recovery which unfortunately meant a stay in hospital until they deemed him strong enough to go home. However, it wasn't the hospital stay that was Greg's major problem; it was the people which visited him. His friends and family looked at him as though he was going to break; he understood that they were scared – he'd been scared himself- but he just wished that they would act more normally. He was sick of being told he needed to rest. His colleagues that bothered to visit were even worse as he could tell from their reluctance to talk that there was an overwhelming sense of guilt and failure over at Scotland Yard. They refused to tell him what was happening with regards to cases and all in all, Greg was beginning to feel depressed and useless.

This was about to change.

It was afternoon visiting hours but Greg hadn't been expecting anyone. He certainly wouldn't have expected this person to come sweeping into the room and yet they were now dropping paperwork down onto the side of his bed.

"I need you to put these in order. Put the earliest at the front." Greg blinked in surprise as Sherlock thrust some of the papers in front of his face.

"Hello, Sherlock," Greg said as though reminding a child of their manners. He watched as Sherlock lowered the papers and his eyes started darting side-to-side.

It was a few moments before Sherlock spoke, "You are...ok?"

"Yeah, Sherlock, I'm doing ok," Greg replied, snorting lightly at Sherlock's attempt at showing concern.

"Good. That's... good."

Greg smiled. This was different. Of course Greg wasn't surprised at Sherlock's lack of social skills but he was surprised to find that he wasn't annoyed with Sherlock. In fact, the lack of worry and fuss he'd been getting all week was refreshing and so Greg found himself reaching for the papers in Sherlock's hand, "Right, so what are these?" he asked.

"Evidence. Order it; earliest first." Sherlock's answer came quickly. He was clearly pleased to be back on task.

"Wait, these are private emails."

"Yes."

"Do I want to know how you got these?"

"Probably not," Sherlock smirked as he took off his coat and sat down in a nearby chair.

Greg rolled his eyes. "So...what's the case?"

"Hillman murders. It's in the papers."

"Yeah, I've seen it," Greg nodded, "Wait, Harris is letting you in on this?"

"Not exactly."

Greg frowned, "Sherlock..."

"He wouldn't listen and the idiot isn't going to be able to solve it alone."

"You can't just go off on your own, Sherlock," Greg reasoned even though he knew it was pointless, "Look, I could put in a word..."

"Wouldn't work. Detective Inspector Harris doesn't like you."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh don't pretend you didn't know. Besides you don't like him," Sherlock said, giving Greg a look that made him realise there was no point in arguing.

"Yeah, alright," Greg conceded. He shuffled some of the papers around. "I can't believe they gave him this case actually."

"You're not there and quite frankly it wouldn't matter who was put in charge; they're all incapable and out of their depth."

Greg shook his head, "And you wonder why people won't work with you?"

"You work with me."

"Hmm..." Greg stared down at the emails. He was desperate to be back on a case but rather annoyingly his brain had decided to see reason, "I'm not sure I should be working with you now."

Sherlock's shoulders sagged in obvious annoyance, "Why not? The injury wasn't to your head; you are no more stupid then you were before. I'm not asking that you run around either. Also, you are clearly bored," he gestured towards the table at the side of the bed, "You've been reading newspapers you usually don't have the time of day for. You hate sudokus and yet there lies a half completed book off them. You ..."

"Sherlock!" Greg cut in before the consulting detective really went off on one, "I meant, I don't think I should work with you because it wouldn't be...well, it wouldn't be very above board."

"Oh."

"Yeah, Sherlock, as much as I want to be involved, legally this..."

"If you were at work now; would you or would you not be investigating this case?" Sherlock interrupted abruptly.

"That's not the point."

"You'd be investigating it so what does it matter? You would also have called me in for help. There is no difference."

Greg rubbed his hands over his face suddenly feeling tired and achy. He looked over at Sherlock who seemed to have deemed the line of conversation over and was once again casting his razor sharp eyes over another photograph. It was then that a thought suddenly occurred to Greg and a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, "This is different though because you've come to me for help."

Sherlock barely paused, "Irrelevant."

"Oh, I don't know..." Greg was grinning now.

"For heavens sake, I didn't even know you could help until I got here."

Greg blinked in surprise, "What?"

Sherlock shifted as though uncomfortable and seemed reluctant to respond so Greg prompted him again, "Sherlock, how did you know I was here?"

"Harris mentioned it. No one would give me details," Sherlock said with a hint of frustration.

Greg thought about this, "You came here to see how I was?" He spoke quietly like he needed to vocalise the question although he knew the answer.

"Is this really important?" Sherlock almost groaned and Greg could tell that the consulting detective had betrayed something he hadn't intended to and was eager to move on. However, Greg was still stuck on the fact that Sherlock had actually cared. He glanced down at the emails in his hands; a sign that Sherlock didn't think he was completely useless. Even the fact that Sherlock knew he hated sudokus seemed important; Greg had wanted to lob the book back at his own well-meaning but foolish brother's head. For the first time in a week, Greg started to laugh.

Sherlock's eyebrows quirked, "What?" he asked looking at Greg confused.

"Nothing, nothing," Greg said, calming his chuckles, "Who'd have thought that you'd be just what I needed?"

"What?"

"Never mind," Greg wafted his hand in front of his face, "So, come on then, these emails are ordered; what do you want me to do now?"

Sherlock's eyes sparkled, "You'll help?"

"I'll do what I can," Greg told him continuing with a more serious tone, "This stays here though; don't mention it at the Yard."

"Fine," Sherlock agreed.

"Oh and, if she finds out, be prepared to answer to my wife," Greg said, not entirely joking.

Sherlock seemed to falter for a second, "You may have to reason with John."

"Why?" Greg frowned, "Where is John anyway?"

"At the surgery," Sherlock said then he added, "I was supposed to wait until he'd finished before visiting you and if you were... ok, he specifically told me not to bother you with a case."

Greg couldn't help it; he started laughing again even though it made his stomach hurt, "Seems like we'll both end up in trouble."

Sherlock grinned, "Makes life so much more fun."

...


End file.
